A Flower's Life
by darkunicorn52
Summary: Follows the life of Iris as Maven's wife. Sort of AU with no powers and blood differences.


She supposes she should be happy, with her husband's mistress dead and buried in the ground. Iris never liked Mareena-no Mare, as she was the only thing standing between her and a decent, faithful marriage with Maven. her presence seems to haunt the halls of the Whitefire palace, her face staring back at Iris in the eyes of the two little boys she gave Maven.

Iris had watched in jealousy as Mare's stomach began to grow two years into her captivity in Maven's castle. She made no effort to hide her pregnancy however, she instead chose to show it off. Dresses were made that best suited her growing figure at Maven's commands while he lavished her in love and attentions that Iris didn't think he was capable of. When Robb was born, Maven ordered the court to celebrate. Iris didn't, she chose to vacation at a palace near the sea when ot became evident that Mare was soon to give birth. Two years later, the second bastard was born, David was a welcome addition to the court, much to Iris' disapproval.

Her heart twisted in sadness as she watched Mare stroll around the palace, two handsome little boys clutching at her skirts all the while Maven trailed behind them, the image of a doting father. Maven seemed oblivious to his own wife's pain as he lived in happiness with his mistress. She had suffered her first miscarriage a month before David's second birthday. Cooped in her dark rooms, alone and suffering, she hoped that they choked on their happiness.

Robb is seven now, quick with his mind and quick on his feet, a nice mixture of both his parents. His sleek black hair reaches his chin, his brown eyes curiously as she navigates through the palace. A shy little thing clings to his red tunic, his five year old brother David always stuck on close to the eldest. Eyes as blue as Mavens with long brown curls that tangle at the top of his head. He needs a haircut- they both do, but Maven never bothers with her suggestions. Everything she tells him to do he seems to do the exact opposite (quite frustrating really)

Despite their long hair, Maven seems to keep his sons in all the finery that befits the royal sons of a king-despite the fact that they are illegitimate bastards. She's mastered the art of hiding her disgust as he parades them around in the colors of House Calore, the burning crown of Norta elegantly embroidered on their chests. The court laughs behind her back, she can feel it, and if she lets her mind run crazy, she can hear Mare's mocking laugh too, even though she's long dead now.

Maven mourned her death for nearly six months, ordering the rest of the court to wear black for the duration of the mourning period. She didn't, but she wore darker shades of blue to at least fake some sympathy. The boys were kept out of sight for almost six months, and when they returned the smallest one clinged to the older one making pathetic little whimpering sounds. Robb was silent, a seemingly empty boy who looked older than his six years. They remainded under the watchful care of their father, but he was soon bombarded with a mountain of other responsibilities. He left his broken children under the care of a whisper, a distant cousin of his if she recalled correctly

(While the rest of the court and Maven mourned for Mareena, she herself mourned for her baby, her third miscarriage.)

Maven kept them close to his heart, his love for their mother shining through his actions. The older of the two attended council meetings with his father, much to the shock of the other silver lords, who thought it quite brazen of their king to allow his bastard to witness such important meetings and give some input. The little one was always surrounded by animals, gifts from his father and other lords who quickly took a liking to the sweet child. His puppy, named Bolt, was his constant companion. As she watched her husband's children grow, she felt herself grow more and more barren, she's thirty three now, and has barely recovered from her fourth miscarriage. She did not tell Maven about this one or the previous three.

Something is wrong with her, she feels it. Maven was able to have two children with Mare and from what she's heard, there were no complications. She writes to her mother frequently, asking for advice and takes it to heart. Camilla, her loyal maid, tells her not to worry, pats her hand and gives her tea that's supposed to make her more fertile.

"You'll see my Queen, soon you'll have a handsome little prince in your arms, more handsome than both the Barrow boys." Camilla tries to encourage her as she hands a cup to Iris.

She says nothing and brings the sweet tea up to her lips and drinks.

It's been ten years now since she's married Maven, and she watches the two boys grow up into young men, watches as a Samos girl begins whispering into the ear of the eldest one.

A boy of twelve now, and seems to grow more ambitious with each passing day. Iris grows weary of him, even more so that her belly's begun to swell once more, (she can only hope that the gods will be merciful and let her keep this one). Maven has not yet bestowed upon him the title of crown prince, has vowed not to do so until she either loses her baby or gives birth to a legitimate heir. A dangerous gamble but she tries to keep her pregnancy a secret, only between her and Maven until she has begun to show.

Three years later and her daughter wobbles as she takes her little steps up and down the palace halls. Her precious Dahlia is her exact image, a beautiful little lady that has certainly received lots of love from both parents. Iris's heart swelled with joy when she first held her sweet baby in her arms, Maven pressing a kiss to both their heads and commanding a celebration for Dahlia's birth.

Robb is sixteen now, and watches Dahlia with dangerous eyes as he walks with Alysanne Samos on his arm.

Maven comes to her about a week later, stating that he will give her one more chance at giving him a son before he legitimizes Robb and sets her aside. The tears streaming down her cheeks are angry as she weeps in the privacy of her rooms, Dahlia curls up on her lap silently as she hears her mother's cries.

Robb marries Alysanne two weeks after his eighteenth birthday. A spectacular wedding that had lords from all over the country fighting for an invitation. Maven claps him on the back, drunkenly warning him to never let his guard down with a Samos woman. A man grown now, stoic and cold, a complete opposite from his fiesty mother and quick tempered father who he favors in looks. Iris doesn't think that Robb loves his father, but he respects him enough to always stay on his good side. She doesn't think that he loves Alysanne either, their relationship is cold and professional. But he loves his brother David, that much is without a doubt, and seems to support his brother's openly gay relationship with Verix Rhambos.

Maven comes to her bed that night, reeking of sweat and alcohol and that's when she conceived again.

Technology advances and it allows her midwife to determine the sex of her baby. A boy no doubt, the midwife is positive and squeals with glee. She tells Maven the next day and her heart almost bursts when his mouth quirks up into a smile.

(Robb overhears and that is her downfall)

Iris is six months along when she sits in the carriage, Dahlia asleep on her skirts. Camilla blurts out boy names here and there, and they both giggle at the thought of Maven's face if she were to name her son Tiberius. She never did find out what became of the eldest Calore brother, but he's long dead by now.

And then, gunshots. Camilla's blood gushes from her chest as another bullet blows through her skull. Iris lets out a horrified scream as she throws herself on top of her daughter, bullets piercing through her back as she yells in agonizing pain. In her last moment of life, she sees a gunman with a purple flame on their chests. Robb's sigil. The world goes black and she is dead, her daughter is dead, and her unborn son is dead.

The darkness fades and she's surrounded in white nothingness. Gunshot wounds litter her body but no blood leaks out. Her hands come to her stomachs and she's no longer pregnant, the baby bump she's treasure all these months is missing and she feels empty.

What would Mare have made of all of this? She thinks as she walks towards a blinding light. Would this have happened if Mare was still alive? Her death was supposed to solve all of Iris's problems, that's why she ordered the poison into her food. And it looks like Mare has gotten her revenge, her face shining through Robb's as he gree older and more dangerous.

 **This has been an idea that's been floating around in my head for a while now and I finally got around to writing it down and posting it on this site. I know that I've been sort of 'missing' from the Red Queen fan fiction thing and for those of you wondering if I am going to continue any of my other stories, rest assured that I am. I plan to post a new chapter fo Pleasing the King and continuing Red King Silver Queen so expect an update for both stories in the coming month of August. As always, reviews are always appreciated.**


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